


A Wolf In My Heart

by DollyPop



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: Drabbles, F/M, Oral Sex, Sexual Content, Via Marie smashing a witch's face in, implicit - Freeform, some violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-16
Updated: 2015-06-16
Packaged: 2018-04-04 15:16:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4142553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DollyPop/pseuds/DollyPop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ten rapid-fire drabbles including, but not limited to: Marie being a BAMF, Stein being a tease, a drink shared between the two of them, and one impromptu game of Twister.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Wolf In My Heart

**1\. You are the Wilderness, Voxhaul Broadcast**

Marie was hurt.

Really, it was Stein's fault from the very beginning. He hadn't been paying nearly enough attention until he felt the blade slice through his abdomen followed by another to his thigh and he had to fall back against the wall of the alleyway.

"Franken!" Marie screeched after he accidentally dropped her. He hadn't meant to. He winced involuntarily when her handle smacked against the brickwork and then she scraped against the cobblestones.

He heard the witch giggle in front of them, amused.

Stein cursed, pressing his back against the wall to pull upright. He'd had worse, but it didn't help that he was still healing from a previous injury. He set his palm against the wall to support himself as his leg protested his actions. He heard the click of the witch's heels, the woman approaching them slowly. Marie transformed back to her human form and he sucked in a breath through his teeth, sounding more like a hiss as she turned her back to him and stepped directly in front of him.

"Marie, don't-"

"You stay there," Marie ordered, her voice sounding final.

He hadn't, of course, and he had slammed a few of his soul attacks into the witch when the woman got too close to his weapon. It wasn't enough to keep Marie entirely injury free, and he had sustained a few more of his own. He had left his spot against the wall, ignoring how badly his thigh was bleeding to shoot another soul menace through the witch, but she aimed a kick straight for his wound, shoving him backward.

When he got knocked against the wall again, he felt his vision blur as his glasses fell off.

He couldn't see much in front of him, but he could see Marie going straight for the witch, looking fierce and jagged and furious. Marie's arm was transformed, her hand a hammer dripping red.

He watched as she slammed it into the witch's face, the crunch of bone echoing out crisply.

When she didn't stop, slamming down and down, with her hair going wild and the witch's blood spraying over her face, her lips, she was feral. She was a damn sight.  
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**2\. Accelerate, Courtney Jenae**

She was panting heavily, her toes undoubtedly curling from their spot over his shoulders.

And he was tired.

"Oh, oh, don't stop!" she demanded, arching and pressing herself down onto his hand and rubbing herself further into his mouth. She whined, writhing.

"Marie," Stein said, pulling away and feeling the dampness on his lower lip, "My hand is cramping."

"Then use the other one!" she replied, pulling on his hair to punctuate the statement, her nails scraping against his scalp.

He thought for a moment. "Nah," he responded, listening to her whine when he pulled his hand away and shook it to ease the cramp. He judged from her pleased gasp that, when he lowered his mouth back onto her, she wasn't going to go unsatisfied.  
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**3\. Say It Ain't So, Weezer**

He didn't drink often. When he did, he preferred brandy or whiskey, or something that burned as it went down because what was the point, otherwise?

He didn't consider drinking wine while sitting on his roof next to his weapon, watching the sun set in front of him as anything relatively close to his usual experiences. But Marie was there, giggling as she sipped out of her beaker.

The bottle was between them, and Marie had originally insisted that they maintain some form of civility by at least drinking out of glasses. He didn't bother informing her of how it was improper use of scientific materials, but he also didn't agree.

So he drank out of the bottle. The wine was sweet and dripped down his throat smoothly. When he placed it back down between them, she reached for it and he assumed she would refill her beaker. However, she had set it down behind her and brought the bottle to her lips, instead.

He spared a glance, seeing how her lower lip caught where his was, prior.

And the alcohol certainly didn't burn, but he felt something warm in his chest, regardless.  
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**4\. Follow my Feet, The Unlikely Candidates**

He had the dreams often. Of the forked road, the forked tongue of Medusa, the smooth skin of Marie's hand above him.

He wasn't one for metaphors, but even he could see what his consciousness was trying to tell him.

It was so easy to just go left, go down, go with Medusa, go, and never leave. To give up and abandon everything. He was going to die eventually one way or another, right? What was the damn point of struggling the whole time?

Medusa's smile was sharp when he turned away from her, as it always was, as it would always be.

And then Marie was ever there, the antithesis: the good blonde. Glinda.

He wanted to giggle.

She was always there, her hand outstretched, her face warm.

When he stepped toward her, stepped up to the high road, it was into her light. No one else's.  
\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**5\. Bedroom Hymns, Florence and the Machine**

He didn't think they would do this on the couch. For one, he hated it since she dragged it in that fated morning after he agreed to let her live in his house. For two, Marie just never struck him as the kind of woman who gave random blowjobs in the middle of the day.

But there she was, kneeling in front of him, between his legs, and his hands were warm but clumsy when they caressed her cheek and mused her hair, but she didn't seem to mind. If anything, she'd probably smile at the affection were her mouth not occupied with him already.

She had one hand on his inner thigh, and he didn't know why, but he moved one of his own away from her hair to twine with it.

When he heard, _felt_ her hum, seemingly in contentment, he let out a breathy groan and squeezed her fingers between his own.  
\--------------------------------------------------------------------------

**6\. Waves, Mr. Probz**

Sometimes it felt like he was drowning in the madness. And sometimes it was easy for her to pull him out of it.

But it wasn't this time.

This was a tomb they were in, a tomb of pillars and sorrow, with crumbling rock. A place he went to willingly because he had wanted Medusa, yes, but he had wanted the pain to stop. When he had seen Marie fall off his roof, her soft goodbye, her body splayed on the ground: he wanted to leave. He wanted to give up.

So he did. And he was dragged down so damn deep he couldn't even tell he was submerged in it all. Anyway, it would have been so much easier if Marie didn't come for him. If he didn't have to hurt her.

Fighting against Medusa's orders was like being in a riptide: the more he fought, the worse it was. So he drowned down, instead. Because he was a coward. Because he didn't have it in him to swim.

So she had to pull him out. She had to dive in and drag him. And he wanted to tell her that she'd go down, too, to give up on him while she could, but he wanted her there. He wanted her salvation. And he was wrong, anyway. Marie wasn't a coward. Marie floated, instinctively. And he clung to her. He clung because his head was above the water and she was strong enough for them both.

He finally felt like he could breathe.  
\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

**7\. Breath of Life, Florence and the Machine**

They left the lights on. Every time. Even when Marie felt bloated and heavy and Stein felt as though anything other than blissful darkness would burn his irises to ash, they left the lamp on. With nothing but moonlight spilling through the window, he didn't trust himself.

He would do something wrong, he was sure of it. He would dig his nails in too far, would pull her hair too hard, wouldn't be able to read her face and tell what she wanted, how she wanted it. He never slipped up, but then again, he always insisted on the light staying on.

Besides, he liked seeing her as she shuddered around him. He liked looking down and seeing where they were joined and watching the flush on her inner thighs.

He liked seeing her come undone.  
\-------------------------------------------------------------------------

**8\. Follow Me Down, The Pretty Reckless**

Stein was a bad influence on her. He blurred the edges of her vision sometimes, made her want to cry. He made her furious other times, so bad that she had to smash something.

But they always pulled through, somehow, because Marie knew how to be upset at Stein but she didn't know how to stay upset at him.

Like now. After she had stormed off from Patchwork Labs and found herself in the middle of Death-Knows-Where, wandering for half an hour, and she felt hands on her hips. She knew, without even having to think about it, who they belonged to.

"Careful. Rumor is there's a madman on the loose," Stein whispered into her ear, stooping so his lips grazed the shell and his nose was in her hair.

Marie smiled, despite her prior annoyance at him.

"Is that so?"

"Yeah. They say he's dangerous."

"I like a bit of danger," she said, and she knew he had probably made a face at how cliché her response was. Despite it, she felt him rub circles against her hips, sliding his fingers closer to her navel and down.

"Bad quality to have," he informed, sounding amused.

"Yeah. I know."  
\-------------------------------------------------------------------

**9\. I Will Follow You Into The Dark, Death Cab For Cutie**

He didn't ever believe he was going to get married. But there he was, nervously tugging on his tie. He had abandoned an all white tuxedo after the disaster that happened last time he wore one. He wasn't usually so paranoid, but he figured what he was going through was the closest thing to a spiritual experience he was going to get to, so he saw no harm in it. Besides which, Marie was going to be in all white, and he certainly didn't want to, pardon the pun, steal her thunder. He read that it was bad manners to wear the same color as the bride.

When she walked down the aisle, it still hadn't really hit him. Even when he lifted her veil and saw the custom made white eyepatch she had ordered, it didn't really connect.

It did when she was reciting her vows to him. Marie made a lot of accommodations for him: one of them being that they were nearly two hours late to their own wedding because he had, damn it all, gotten nervous. The other being that she accepted getting married in a graveyard because he was more comfortable among the dead than the living.

So he returned the favor. Making their own vows wasn't a massive deal, anyway. Not after everything she had put up with, for him. And after Death the Kid recited his speech and Marie had finished telling him her own promises, it was his turn.

He knew that he could never say everything. He wasn't a man of words.

"I'll go with you, always."

But it was enough for Marie because she just grinned and kissed him (and kissed him and kissed him).  
\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**10\. Touchin' on My, 3OH!3**

In hindsight, Twister was a bad idea. Stein hadn't ever played it, always turning everyone down when even the slightest suggestion was made.

But this was Marie. The woman had a puppy-dog-stare like no one would ever believe. And he didn't want to admit that he was vulnerable to it. He could dissect puppies. Probably in front of other puppies. He could probably take photographs of such and look at it as a fond memory, but one watery look and a pout from a certain blonde woman left him defenseless.

Damn it all.

When Left Hand Blue was called out by a snickering Spirit, Stein shifted uncomfortably as Marie twisted underneath him, her ass rubbing against his thigh as she moved about and settled, on all fours, underneath him.

Somehow, everyone else, composed of Mira, Sid, Spirit, and yes, even Azusa, weren't in nearly the same awkward predicament that Stein was in.

Azusa called out right foot red and Stein squirmed, forced to spread his legs out and feeling Marie shift so his leg wasn't pressed against her anymore. He was praying to the Scientific Method that she wouldn't realize that she was pressing against something else of his. He wanting to cough just to release some of the awkward feeling and the blush crawling up his chest and neck was scalding.

At the very least, Marie had her back to him.

**Author's Note:**

> Everything is a song about sex if you just believe in yourself.


End file.
